Morning Stars
by hadezmage
Summary: The most ghetto/ratchet drama comedy you will ever read.


_Morning Stars_

She turned a corner and shone her headlights. Stunned, she slowed and eventually came to a stop. He was standing there. His eyes ferociously glared at her, as if he'd been through the depths.

******Flashback Thirteen Days Ago******

He sat there, ravaged in terror and fear. It wasn't pleasant. The sound of it glided through the air. He wished for solemn and consoling moments.

Thomas was a young, slim boy, in his mid-teenage years, who thought of his life if he hadn't been born.

He was a normal child, normal as every one kid in his school. However, there was something… different; about Thomas.

His mother was a drug addict that has been living off of stealing money. Drinking, smoking, and robbing people were the only things she would do. The only attention he got from her was whippings, scowls, and foul language.

He mourned everyday. Forcing his body to succumb to the only alarm clock he could afford. Everyday. Waking up to go to school was already hard enough.

Thomas woke up on a Saturday morning, same as usual. Slamming his hand onto the alarm clock, yearning for it to hush. Expecting a call from his best friend Mavis, he slowly awakened from his bed, like a zombie rising from the dead. He slimmed over into the bathroom, which was really an old closet with a drain and hole so the water hose could fit inside the house, spraying water.

Taking a shower, he heard a slight ring. He remembered he was expecting a call, like everyday, from Mavis. He quickly turned off the shower, put a towel on, which was an old rag that's been soaking in water, and picked up the phone.

"Mavis?" Thomas asked.

"Hey, Thomas. It's Mavis's sister." She answered in a slumped mood.

"Oh, hi, Trish, where Mavis?"

"She's with Charlotte, at the supermarket. She forgot her phone, sorry."

"That's alright" he responded.

"So, why'd you call me?"

"I… have to tell you something..."

"What? What happened?" He exclaimed with emphasis.

"Lucy... she died... yesterday..."

"I'm so sorry..."

She hung up the phone and Thomas let out a huge sigh.

He put on the scarce pair of clothes he had and then he went outside and walked to school. A death, an empty stomach, and no friend to talk to. What a great start to the day.

The bell rang, and he escaped school as if it were on fire. Running three miles to Mavis's, Lucy's, Charlotte's, and Trish's house, he stopped in their driveway, dying for a breath.

"Thomas!" he heard.

He saw the door open.

Mavis walked out.

"April fools!"

"Lucy's not dead. She's in here!"

"What… why would you play such a cruel joke like that?"

"Oh, walk it off, pansy."

Thomas shrugged and went into their house. Strobe lights, music, and punch. He knew they were having a party.

"Hey, I think I should leave!" He tried to talk over the loud noise.

A lot of people from his school were there.

"Fine you party pooper!"

"...WAIT!"

We walked outside.

"Let's do something, Thomas!"

"Like?" he asked.

"Let's go to Juice Shack."

Upon arriving at Juice Shack, Mavis walked over to the cashier and asked what had berries in it, since she was allergic.

"What has berries in it?" Mavis asked.

"The menu." The cashier nonchalantly replied.

"Okay, um... What do you recommend?"

"The menu."

Moments passed as they stared at each other in disbelief.

Then the cashier spoke.

"Could you speak step aside so somebody else could order."

Mavis looked behind her.

"There's nobody in line..?"

The cashier raised her eyebrows.

"I'm going to call my manager if you don't order something. Order or leave."

"Ugh!"

Mavis walked away and grabbed Thomas by the arm.

"We're going somewhere else."

"Let's go to the Salad Bar!"

"Fine."

The little annoying door alarm when every time someone walked through.

This time, Thomas walked up to the cashier, knowing that she was just recently hired.

"Welcome to Salad bar my name is Cloret and I am proud to be your veggierician."

"Okay, what do you recommend?" Thomas replied.

"Ooh, that is a real. Good. Question. Hold up" she said.

"Hey Rique! What is that smell?"

"Nuh-uh! You know I have Allegra on speed dial and I am not afraid to use it."

She turned back to look at me.

"Sorry, we got some real dirty people working up in here. Wooh!"

"Uh okay, so again, what do you recommend?" Thomas awkwardly asked.

"Oh, we got a real good Mexican salad."

Thomas was confused.

"What's in it?"

"Lettuce and croutons." She replied

"Why is it called Mexican salad?"

"It's made by Mexicans. Duh" She replied.

"Oh, and the other day I went into the pantry closet, which is just and old bathroom that don't work no mo, and there was potato salad on the ceiling! I mean, who just goes up in there and says... "I don't know where to put this I'm just going to fling this up and see if it sticks?"

"And the other day I bit into a bloody salad that had a purple hair in it. I mean like, ain't nobody up in here got purple hair so I don't know where it came from."

"Ooh, and don't even ask where we get out water from... wooh!"

The cashier turned around to look and noticed that Thomas and Mavis had already left.

"Aw..."

Thomas looked at Mavis.

"Again, I should get going home."

"Fine..."

Upon reaching his house, he panicked. Standing in the doorway was his mother.

"Where have you been!?"

"HEY!" She screamed again.

Thomas didn't answer. He hesitated, and urged to turn around and run back to Mavis. Though frightened, he continued to walk toward the gaping shack he called his home.

Then, he remembered.

_Beatrice lay there, kicking her feet up in the air, star__ing__ into the forbidden skies. _

_She was only fifteen years old, and her mother and sister just recently discovered that she was on drugs._

_ She used to be a home-town girl, doing everything her mother and sister told her, as she was the youngest. She would take out the trash, wake up every morning on time, not talk-back, and do what she was told, with no complaint._

_Turns out, Beatrice had been filling up storages upon storage inside her self, full of anger… hatred… and disgust. _

_Until one day, she couldn't handle it._

Thomas woke from his daydream to the sound of the thump.

He had realized his mother had grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to the ground.

His head wailed as it made contact with the wooden floor.

"Get up." She commanded.

Thomas, still swoopy from his encounter, stood to his feet. Overpowering his mother's height.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I told you to GO TO SCHOOL, AND COME HOME RIGHT AWAY, not go run off and play with your pesky 'friends', Thomas."

"Sorry." He replied. Not knowing what else to say.

"Sorry?!" She sounded offended.

She punched him in the chest and he wobbled into the wall, crashing to the ground with a tear forming in his eye.

"Disgrace."

"What a disgrace of a son."

She walked away to the sound of a phone.

Thomas sat there, petrified, but not surprised.

This was none other than an ordinary day. A tear of joy rolled down his cheek.

His mother had recognized him. She never does.

"Hello?"

Thomas could hear his mother's screeching voice through the slim walls.

Her tone of voice suddenly changed, it sounded like she had just had a day at the spa.

She was talking to her doctor.

"Hello, Beatrice. Your monthly dose of medication is at the pharmacy. We would like you to retrieve as soon as possible."

"Yes, sorry. I've been busy lately. I'll be there right away."

Thomas heard her put down the phone and then witnessed a big sigh.

Beatrice walked out of the room, past Thomas, and out the door.

Without a word.

Thomas went to his mattress and lay down. He had a long thought about the last time he could remember his mother talking to him... nevertheless, look at him.

He picked up his journal and started writing.

October 18th, 1979.

My mother had recognized me again, thought it wasn't a pleasant encounter.

Today had been an all-together… confusing day.

Crazy cashiers.

Crazy mothers.

Crazy friends.

I miss her. I really do.

There wasn't a day we didn't spend together...

Laughter… and joy… and happiness, I

He stopped writing.

Then it started raining.

Thump. Thump.

It rained even more, and Thomas fell into a trance-like-state, eventually ceasing into a deep slumber.

_ She was twenty-eight years old. _

_She snuck around buildings, people, mischievously walking through the streets wearing a hood over her head._

_Pedestrians stared as her as she appeared under streetlights._

_Cars slowing down to look as they passed by. _

_Walking home after dark, just finishing her... "Exchange"_

_he returned to an old, wooden, broken shack, however looking like it'd been built not too long ago. _

_Probably big enough for no more than three or four._

"_Evan, I'm home!"She said. _

"_Did you… get it?" he asked in suspicion._

"_Yeah… rates have gone up by a lot lately..." She said with a sigh._

"_Well, Beatrice, drug dealers are always greedy for more money." He responded._

"_Evan; we're going to have trouble keeping up with this… being pregnant won't help us any bit."_

"_I... I just don't know, Evan."_

"_I don't know what I'm going to do with a baby…" she staggered..._

"_I mean—Evan… I take drugs for goodness sake! Without them, I go crazy! Even you hate me when I'm around without them..."_

"_I should probably abort… NO!"_

"_Beatrice! You are NOT going to abandon this child!" Evan exclaimed._

"_Ugh, it'll all work out, soon, Beatrice."_

"_I love you Beatrice, we'll worry about this when the time comes."_

_She let out a big sobbing cry._

"_Love you, Evan."_

"_I love you, Beatrice."_

"_You have nothing to worry about."_

_Beatrice lay on the carpet, leaning onto Evan's shoulder._

Thomas woke from his nap, only to find it the next morning.

He blew his nose, wiped his eyes, and slammed the alarm clock, milliseconds after it started to ring.

The normal morning routine happened, and he walked outside.

The skies were filled with an ashy-gray color that smelled like burning rubber.

A house was on fire.

Thomas ran back inside, grabbed his phone, put on his jacket, and ran to Mavis's house.

Halfway to her house, his phone rang. Slowing to a jog, he picked up the phone.

"Hello? Mavis?"

"Thomas... are you ready?

"Who is this?"

He backed the phone away from his ear and looked at the number. It was a blocked number.

"Who is this? Tell me!" Thomas screamed.

"Don't worry; you have nothing to worry about."

Thomas couldn't make out the voice.

By now, Thomas had completely stopped running and sat on the curb.

"Thomas, it'll all be okay. The time will come, be ready…"

"What…? Is this a prank?" Thomas was confused.

"What's going on? Tell me!"

Beep. Beep.

The mysterious caller had hung up. No caller ID. Nothing.

Then Thomas got up, and continued running, the descending ash made his eyes watery and nostrils burn.

Thomas couldn't see. The skies have enveloped the streets with a musty fog, blurring all signs of vision. He ran in all directions. Left. Right. Even went backwards to trace his steps. Thomas could hear people screaming, cars screeching. He continued running forward, dying for a clean breath of air.

Then he saw a light. It was a truck. He froze like a deer in the headlights. The car didn't slow down.


End file.
